Unsettled
by laureiz
Summary: After college, Julie, Matt, Tyra, Landry, and Smash are all trying to figure out how to make their way as adults.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Julie Taylor stared down at the phone in her hand, and willed the tears welling up in her eyes to subside. One more rejection. One last rejection.

Over the past month, she had shown up for auditions all over the city, for Broadway shows, off-Broadway shows, church-basement shows, traveling dance troupes, third-rate music videos, and commercials.

But this? This was lowering. Even a strip club wouldn't take her. She hadn't even meant to audition seriously—she walked into the club initially out of frustration. But now it was official; she was less employable than Mindy Riggins. Apparently, even the strip clubs were feeling the effects of the downturn that started in 2008, and the club "had to look after its own." Seriously?

"Hey Jules," Beth said as she popped her head in the door. The tall brunette had been her suitemate for all four years at Tisch. "Have you given any thought to heading out to Texas with me? You know they'll let you miss class for an audition, and I checked with the dean—this counts."

Beth glanced at Julie's glimmering eyes, and quickly slipped inside shutting the door behind her. "Hey—you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just another rejection. But this is the life, right? I should start polishing my waitress skills. At least I have Applebee's on my resume. Who ever thought that would be the most valuable line on it?"

With that, the tears started streaming down Julie's face, and she collapsed into Beth. "I thought I'd be able to get a good job out of Tisch. It's one of the best schools in New York—you know? That was the plan. Get away from home, get away from stupid football, get away from the screaming toddler, go to a city with some real culture, get top training, land a glamorous dancing job. But now? I . . . I just need to get out of here."

Julie and Beth sat there for a moment, reflecting on the impossibilities of breaking into the dance profession in the Big Apple, particularly as funds for the arts were almost nonexistent.

"Aw, Jules. You'll get that job. But it sounds like you need a break, and you could use a good dose of home."

"Plus," Beth continued with a grin, "I want to get my shot at becoming a professional cheerleader. The Austin Rodeo Girls have the most slots opening up this year, so it's my best shot. I need your help, though—they've got this whole section on Texas football in the interview process. I love football players, but I never paid much attention to the games. And I never set foot in the state of Texas. You're at least from Texas, so you must know more than I do. Come on, let's go and you can help me out. What do you say?"

"You know I've never cheered a day in my life?" Julie mumbled.

"Yeah—that's why you're perfect. Do you think I'd bring my real competition along?" Beth said as she squeezed Julie's shoulder.

"Fine, I'll go. I could really use a visit with Tyra, and she just moved to Austin with Landry. Plus, I've got a really good friend who could use a couple pointers about football from the coach's daughter."

"The coach's daughter?" Beth raised her eyebrows.

Julie looked up with a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah, why do you think I avoided cheering? My whole life was football."

"It's settled, then. I'll log onto Travelocity to book us some tickets. Do you think we could stay with your friends for the auditions? It's only three days next week, and I'm a girl on a budget. Plus, after you wash out the first day, you'll be able to spend all your time with her," Beth winked.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, but I'll give Tyra a call," Julie sighed, still not completely over the blow of her latest rejection. "Maybe I'll be able to find a job out there while you're auditioning."

"Thanks, babe—but remember, you're auditioning too! It's the only way to get your "get out of class free" card. Anyway, I'll email you when I get the tickets. You won't regret it!"

"Sure thing," Julie smiled weakly. Beth waved as she bounced out the door.

Julie stared at her phone again, this time with fewer tears in her eyes.

* * *

Tyra glared at her phone as it started to ring seconds after she walked in the door. Another phone call meant another meaningless demand from her witch of a boss.

But that witch was giving her a real chance to break into event planning. After she paid her dues for a year, learned the event business in Austin, and made a few connections, she'd be able to break off on her own and plan parties for a living, while Landry finished up his Ph.D.

"Hello?" she managed to answer calmly.

"Hey Tyra, it's Julie."

"Hey Jules! It's great to hear from you—I really needed to hear a friendly voice. How's that Big Apple dance search thing you've got going on doing for you?"

"Um, to be honest? It's not going very well, and I really need to get out of here for a bit. One of my friends is heading down to Austin to audition to become a Rodeo Girl next week, and she invited me to head down there with her."

"You'll be in Austin next week?" Tyra grinned. "That's the best news I've heard all week. I'll be working on a convention, but you have to stay with us!"

"Thanks, Tyra—money is tight, and I'm splurging on the plane tickets as it is. Is it okay if Beth stays there too?"

"Sure thing. I mean, I'll have to check with Landry, but I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Great. So, why do you need a friendly voice? Things going okay with Landry?"

"Yeah, he's been great, but he's just really busy with school. He has this huge test coming up where he needs to know all of physics or something. Sometimes I think the lab is his new home. No, really, it's just the job."

"At least you have one," Julie replied, with the stress evident in her voice.

"Yeah, and I know you have to start at the bottom and everything, but it's just frustrating, you know? I can throw a kick-ass party, but my boss has decided that I'm going to devote my life full-time to being a glorified gofer. Like, today? I spent seven hours driving to Dallas just so I could pick up a dress. What's wrong with UPS?"

"That sucks. It does—just forgive me for not being able to get upset on your behalf right now?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Wait just a sec—Landry just walked in."

Tyra covered the receiver with her hand and called out, "Hey, Landry? Sweetie? You don't mind if Julie Taylor crashes here with a friend for a few days next week, do you? She's coming to Austin with a friend who is auditioning to be a Rodeo Girl. You know I owe my girl and her family for everything."

"Um, of course," Landry replied as he kissed Tyra's cheek. "But what about Matt?" he continued in a lower voice.

"Shh! It's only for three days, and he doesn't need to come by. We just won't mention anything."

"If you say so . . . whatever you want. I brought home burgers, so I'm going to put dinner on the table, okay?" Landry lifted up a Burger King bag.

"Sure, I'll be off the phone in just a sec." Tyra uncovered the phone.

"Hey honey, we're all good for you and your friend staying here. Landry brought home dinner, though, so I need to get going. Email me when I should pick you up from the airport?"

"Thanks, Tyra. I'll forward you our itinerary. I owe you. Enjoy dinner."

"Bye, Jules. See you soon!" Tyra clicked off the phone and headed towards the kitchen.

"Julie and Matt in the same city, Tyra?" Landry asked.

"Yeah, well, they just won't run into each other. It'll be fine."

"I hope you're right. Now, I'm just starved. How about you?"

"Famished."

"Is that right? Well, miss, I just happen to have some top-notch, slightly squished, burgers from the king of all burgers. So they should be extra tasty."

"Do you now? Well, I just might have to eat one of them." Tyra grinned and sat down to dinner with her husband.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Friday Night Lights isn't mine, and I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter 2

Matt Saracen knocked on the door in front of him, decorated with a faded number seven Dillon Panther's Jersey. "Grandma? It's Matt."

"Matthew? Matthew doesn't live here any more. He left me. He left me for college. Go away." Matt's grandma called through the door.

Matt opened it anyway, and peaked his head in the door. "Grandma, it's me. I moved to Austin a year ago to be by you, remember? I come by every day at 6."

"Really? Look at that—you're here. Well, come on in then. Did you bring me any pudding?"

"Yes, Grandma." Matt held out a pudding cup and a spoon, as he did every night. "Just the way you like it."

"Well, then, come on in and sit down. I'm watching some news about the Austin Rodeos. They're starting to talk about spring training camp already. Can you believe that?"

"Yes, Grandma." Matt settled into the single chair next to his grandmother's bed and started to listen to the sports commentators.

" . . . _And, of course, everyone is talking about the very controversial invitation extended to Brian "Smash" Williams for training camp. Williams played four years of college ball over five years, taking one year off for personal reasons. There has been a lot of speculation about what those reasons were, but let me tell you—that young man is trouble. _

_In high school, TMU withdrew its offer to Williams after he assaulted two young white men in a theater. Whitmore, a far less prestigious football school, offered him a spot, but a torn ACL kept him from accepting that scholarship for his freshman year. He walked onto the team at Texas A&M, but left there for Whitmore after one year with no playing time. Many suspect that this was because he had problems playing on an integrated team._

_The big question is still out there—can this young man play on an integrated team? Did Coach Fillmore make a big mistake in using a training camp slot on him?"_

"Did you know Smash is playing for the Rodeo? Your old teammate, Smash Williams, is trying out for the NFL?" Mrs. Saracen turned to her grandson.

"No, Grandma, I didn't. I hadn't heard of it."

"Well, you should go talk to him. You used to be his quarterback. You won State with that boy. You always loved football. I always thought my boy could play football in the NFL." Mrs. Saracen's eyes glazed over and she turned from her grandson.

"But he decided to go to art school instead and stop football. My boy stopped playing football and he left me. Who knows where he is now."

"I'm right here grandma."

"Who are you? Get out of here! This is my room, and I can call the nurse. Nurse!" Mrs. Saracen threw a pillow towards her grandson.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll just be leaving now. I love you, grandma." Matt backed out the door, waving to his grandmother. She had her on nights and her off nights, and tonight fell somewhere in between.

He leaned back up against the wall outside her door, and nodded to a vaguely familiar nurse pushing a cart through the hallways. He thought her name might be Sara, but he wasn't quite sure.

"How was she tonight, Matt?" asked the nurse, who was sporting a nametag that read "Cara".

"She was okay. She knew me for a little bit back there."

"That's good. It's good you're here, Matt. You mean a lot to her. Hey—how's that job search going?"

"Well, actually, I just started working at the stadium, doing maintenance. You know, fixing up the stands and everything. The stadium is kinda old, and it's really falling apart." Matt started shifting his feet, and glancing down.

"I thought you were looking for an art job?"

"Well, I was, but they're kinda, well, kinda hard to find around these parts right now. I'm still looking, but I need to pay rent. Plus, I like football, and I can watch the practices."

"It's good you're at least around something you like. Your grandma just doesn't shut up about you being a Dillon Panther back in high school. But, a job's a job. Just don't give up on your dream."

"Yeah, I'm going to be looking for some part time art stuff, get myself out there, at night. It's just a little harder in Austin than it would be in Chicago. I'll be fine." Matt stood up. "I gotta get going. Take care of Grandma for me real well, okay?"

"Of course, Matt," Cara smiled. "See you tomorrow?"

"Um, yeah. See you tomorrow," Matt nodded and turned to walk out of the Austin Desert Rose Nursing Home.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Friday Night Lights isn't mine, and I'm not making any money off of this.

* * *

Bright and early Tuesday morning, Smash Williams stretched his legs out of the car and grinned up at the sky. "The Smash is going pro, baby!" he shouted to the empty parking lot, an hour before practice was supposed to start.

"You still need to make the team," a voice came from behind him. "And that takes more than skill. We all know you can run, but can you be on a team? Can you play second fiddle?"

Smash turned to find himself face to face with Coach Fillmore. Fillmore continued, "There's no denying we could use your speed with Billy O'Brien threatening retirement in a year, but I don't need that if it comes with an ego and team issues. No doubt you've heard doubts from the media. We have them here too, but want to see what you have."

"Yes, sir!" Smash replied, looking into the coach's eyes.

Fillmore crossed his arms, scrutinized Smash for a beat, and turned on his heel. "See you on the field in an hour," he tossed over his shoulder.

* * *

Five hours later, Smash's confidence had started to fray. Conscious of the way the team pointedly ignored him, refusing to make eye contact during warm-ups, turning silent on the sidelines when he approached, he knew that the team had taken the media's remarks to heart.

The passes he was getting during the drill were sub-par. Every time Greg Billings, the quarterback, launched a pass to Smash, he made it a little harder to reach. Smash knew the coaches would remember that he flubbed more of his catches, but he doubted they would remember that Billings had managed to single him out for bad passes. Actually, even if they did register that fact, they might (correctly) attribute it to bad player chemistry—and there was no way they were going to take someone who didn't click with Billings.

Later, en route to the locker room after the morning session, Smash decided that he had to take the situation into his own hands. There was no way the Smash was going down without a fight.

He jogged to catch up to Billings, who was talking to last year's starting running back, and tapped Billings on the arm. "You got a minute?"

"We're in the middle of a conversation, bro," Billings responded, barely acknowledging Smash's presence.

Smash stepped around in front of Billings, stopped him, and looked him in the eye. "I want to know why you're not giving me a fair shake out there."

The slightly older quarterback stared right back and stated, "Honestly, kid, we don't need your kind of trouble here. I don't need you exploding at one of your teammates, stirring up fights, and turning teammates against each other. What starts in the locker room might spread to the field, and I need one team out there. From what I hear, you make it two. We don't need that."

"What? So you listen to some reporters about some incidents from five years ago, and you decide that I don't deserve a chance? I'm a damn good player, and a damn fast one. I'm not saying that I deserve to take O'Brien's place," he said, gesturing to the other running back, who had paused with his friend, "But I deserve a shot to try out for a spot on the bench."

"Look, kid—we heard you transferred to Whitmore because you couldn't play with the white boys from Texas A&M. We heard you beat up some white kids in high school, and we saw the footage. From what we've heard, you simply won't work with this team."

Smash interrupted Billings before he could go any farther. "Look, you don't know my reasons for transferring. You don't know the full story behind that one fight five years ago. I got along just fine with the white boys on my team, on and off the field. Don't write me off without giving me a fair shake—I just wanted to let you know that I could be good for you, and for the team."

Billings looked him up and down. "Fine then, prove it," he demanded calmly. "Show us that you'll fit in with this team, on and off the field. But, frankly, so many of the guys think you're a firecracker that I doubt you'll be able to do it." He nodded to O'Brien and started to past Smash to the lockers.

O'Brien looked over his shoulder and said, "Good luck, kid. You'll need it."

Smash stood off to the side, reflecting on the players' comments as the others continued to stream pass him into the locker room, some glancing his way and murmuring to each other as they passed.

He knew he had to prove that he could fit in, that he would have to work twice as hard as anyone else on the field and off it. But this was nothing new. He came back from the steroids. He came back from his torn ACL. He came back to college, albeit a different one, on a free ride after his mama had lost her job and couldn't afford Texas A&M tuition. Hell, he managed to get a spot at training camp from Whitmore, which hadn't sent anyone to a training camp in decades. He could make the Austin Rodeo. The question was: how?


End file.
